Windcutter: Epilogue The Final Farewell
by Silenceinthedarkness
Summary: A teaser to a series I'm thinking of writing about Flora's past. Please give some constructive comments.
1. The Final Farewell

Windcutter: Epilogue The Final Farewell

"_When the battle's lost and won, the only thing that remains is sorrow and devastation."_

A lone Claymore surveyed the battlefield that was once the city of Pieta. Her cold eyes did not miss even a single nook or cranny. Flicking her long silver hair to the back, she sighed.

It was too clean.

Though there was blood and fragmented remains of what was once her comrades all over the ruins, the weapons that defined them to the commoners were mysteriously missing.

"Humph, trust the Organization for missing such an important detail." Galatea muttered to herself as she expended her senses further into the mountains of the Northern Regions.

The missing swords had to have gone somewhere and she was determined to find them. After all she had an important promise to fulfill and she was not about to go back before she finished what she came to do.

Nothing.

Even she, with the title of "God-Eye", could not determine the presence of the warriors who had survived the one-sided battle. Maybe looters had ransacked the place before her arrival here? She quickly dismissed that thought; no human would be foolish enough to come here after what had happened. The border town of Pieta was reduced to nothing but a few low walls that were lucky to have escaped the carnage.

A small glint caught her eye as the sun rose above the mountains. It was on the eastern mountain overlooking the battlefield. A small smile spread across Galatea face. It was time to fulfill the vow that they had made so long ago.

Walking among the upturned swords that marked the graves of her comrades, she scanned the symbols etched into the blade. Finally stopping, she glanced sadly at the claymore before and allowed a small tear to form.

"I thought you would come here." A voice behind her snapped her back into reality.

How could she not have sensed the presence of another warrior…unless… She turned, sword drawn and ready to fight, only to sheath it again.

"Miria…so you survived after all. I'm glad to see you," Galatea said to the cloaked figure standing in front of her.

Pulling off her hood, Phantom Miria stared at Galatea. Her eyes drenched with pain from the loss of her comrades that had fallen during the one-sided battle.

"Shall we begin?" Miria said as she unscrewed the hilt of the claymore that was once held by the warrior who held the title of "Windcutter" and took out a small piece of paper.

"She has handed the path to another…" Miria voice quivered as she handed over the letter initialed with a cursive 'G' to Galatea.

Silently reading it, Galatea's face softened. Memories of her old friend flooded her. All those nights they had spent training together. The three of them had gotten further apart after their "graduation" but the bond that connected them, no matter how thin, would always be related to the times they had spent together.

And today, they had come to say a final farewell to the person that had brought them together as a team…

"So…did number 47 survive?" Galatea asked rolling up the letter and keeping it in the hilt of her sword.

"Yes…"

"Then I wish her all the best in her endeavors. For now…" Galatea took out a small goatskin bottle, uncorked it and took a swing from it.

"Here" she said tossing the bottle over to Miria who did the same.

The final remnants of the red liquid were poured over the grave.

"Franchols wine twelfth year of the sun. Flora would loved that."

"I guess this is our final farewell my friend," Miria said "let's wrap it up."

"While your flesh and bones may fade to dust and your legacy soon forgotten. This sword serves as a testament that you have fought for this land and that your cause was just. When fellow warriors see this monument, they will know that they are shouldering the burden which you have long carried. Farewell Florencea de Mistica. Rest well knowing that your legacy will be carried on by another."

Both said in unison, their claymores touching the grave.

A long silence followed as both warriors stared at the grave marker.

"Well, I'm off then." Galatea broke the silence first.

"Are you going back to the Organization?"

"For now. I've got some things to finish before leaving but don't worry. We'll meet again." By then Galatea was already a small figure in the distance.

"For now…we shall meet again…" Miria gazed at Galatea fading figure before looking sadly at the grave "for now…we shall meet again…"


	2. The Lady, The Rat & The Trader

Windcutter: Epilogue The Lady, The Rat & The Trader

The spring sunlight washed down upon the small herb garden within the small church's confines. There stood a single maiden watering the plants; her traditional habit of black and white a stark contrast to the colourful display of flora and fauna that surrounded her.

As the final droplets of water splashed down onto the herbs, the sister gently placed her palm on to the only tree that had managed to grow so tall in the corner of the garden.

"The flowers should be blooming now… I only wished I could see them in full bloom…"

"Sister Latea! Sister Latea!" The chorus of children voices pieced through the hubbub of nature.

Turning to face the source of their voices Sister Latea smiled cheerfully.

"How are you today children?" Her arms spread apart welcoming the children into her small sanctuary.

"Sister Latea! Sister Latea! Please tell us another one of your stories. I really really love them" One of the smaller girls pipped.

"Yea! Yea! Tell us one with lots of fighting and warriors!" One of the boys picked up a fallen branch and waved it around like a sword.

"No! No! Please tell us one with lots of love in it!" The young girl who said it held her hands to her chest her eyes dreamy.

But even as the children danced and played, the Sister could only smile and look in the general direction of their voices. For her scared eyes could no longer see their innocent faces as they moved jubilantly around the garden.

Turning her head to face the tree, she placed her palm on its rough bark once again before sitting on the low wall that marked the end of the garden.

"Children, do you know what the name of this tree is? It is an Almond tree. And to give someone Almond flowers is a sign of a promise –that a promise made so long ago would always hold through. So today with these flowers in full bloom I shall tell you a story about a promise, a story of The Lady, The Rat and The Trader…

Let me tell you the story of the lady, the street rat and the trader. Each of different social classes destined never to meet. However, one event changed their lives. For each now had nothing and had to start afresh in the cold mountains of the east…

At first only the lady and the rat got along. Their sense of honor while different in many ways bonded them allowing them to survive the harsh trials together. It was a strange bond that these two held. Both from opposite ends of the class system and while their methods may differ (The rat preferred to be direct while the lady preferred to talk be less forceful) their desire to save lives even at the expanse of their own kept them together.

The trader however thought she was stronger and looked down on how weak the lady and the rat were. She had always done everything perfectly alone so she never understood why the lady and the rat relied on each other. She had no care about the lives of others, staring only at herself and living by her ideals of beauty.

But the lady could not stand the sight of the lonely trader so tried to call out to her. But the trader did not heed her calls finding her sense of honor irritating.

One event changed all that…

For even the strongest would fall one day. And that day came when the trader could no longer take the seemingly endless trials. Falling to her knees she knew she could take no more – submitting to reality known as death.

But in that darkest hour the lady and the rat could not stand by and watch the trader fall so stepped in saving her.

From there the three became one. The Lady, calm and graceful, was the mediator within the group. The Street Rat – practical and observant, was the leader. And finally The Trader, sly and cunning, allowing her to gather information fast and over long distances.

While they argued and fought aplenty, they had always reached a compromise and through argument did they strengthen their bonds.

As they overcame the final challenge in training, it marked the end of their time together. Each now had to go their separate ways. The Lady had gotten over her inferiority complex and became an actress blending seamlessly into society. The Street Rat went from strength to strength to become an even greater leader. As for the Trader… she went off alone again to become an eye to watch over the rest.

But before they parted ways they shared one last moment together where they made a promise. To honor those who had fought and fallen… and when the time came where one among them must meet their maker, to visit the grave and reaffirm their promise once again…

In the end whatever is born would always die. And thus one fateful winter's night did the Rat and the Lady fight the horrors that plagued mankind. In these desperate times, where was the Trader? … Now a watcher – she could no longer intervene. And so the Lady fell and the Rat returned to the sewers. In the end even the Trader who saw it all tore out her eyes in agony and ran away. In this world we live in there never is a truly happy ending only one of compromise and sorrow. Rest well children. Rest well.

As Sister Latea softly stroked the rough hair of the girl sleeping on her lap she raising her empty eyes once again to the Almond tree and smiled sadly.

The flower had long since fallen and returned to the earth but the phantom was still alive. Both cared so much about the lives of others that they were willing to put their lives on the line to protect even those who feared them. Maybe it was time she did the same.

And so for the sake of the children that she had grown to love and care for. God-Eye Galatea once more released her Yoki.

Come and hunt me. And when you do please discover the true monster that lurks within this holy city…


	3. On Scattered Winds

On Scattered Winds

_Though our endings will always be in despair, why not make the journey there at least one filled with memories._

To feel the wind, is to sense your surroundings.

To be the wind, is to move as one with it.

Those thoughts ran through her head as the girl danced. Round and around she went her feet treading lightly on the grassy forest clearing. A sight to behold for mortal eyes, she swept through, hands easily moving as one with the wind that came naturally to her.

All in all in graceful banter that one would mistake her for a forest sprite. Her easy platinum-blonde hair and silver eyes an otherworldly presence, yet an inescapable and eternal beauty that would lock the gaze of any passerby.

But in this world where the word "monster" is so clearly defined, what does treading the line between them make them: The saviors from the darkness to be revered or the emotionless Valkyries who were feared more than respected?

Unnecessary thoughts slowly crept in. Plaguing the young lady, corrupting her movements.

Her dance reaching a fever pitch, its movements faster and faster, only to be shut down in mid swing.

"Your accuracy has improved. I'm impressed Flora."

The lady in front of her said, unfazed by the newly materialized blade the girl was holding a hair's breadth from her sleek long hair. Appearance wise both were almost identical with silver eyes and light blond hair that one could call them sisters clad in silver while bodysuits and armored shoulder pads with only their preference in hair styles differing.

"Well I know how much you treasure your hair." Came the curt reply from the dancer named Flora. "So what bring you here Galatea? Or should I call you the Organization's _God-Eye_ now, number three-sama?"

"Spare me the formalities Florencea, I need no coddling. You very well know I'm here incognito." Galatea easily brushed the large claymore aside and in the process took off her own and placed it on the soft ground to use as a back-rest.

"Cold as ever, Galatea. I see the years have not changed that. While it is not a lot may I interest you in some dried meat I procured while we chat? How long has it been since we last met?"

"Not since gradation."

While Galatea had no intention to stay long, she roughly took the offer of meat and plopped onto the ground with Flora following suit beside her. A moment of nostalgia washed over both these young ladies as both fought to keep it in check. After all, Galatea would never risk visiting an old friend just for a simple gossip session no matter how bad her reputation for discipline was.

"Have you received it?"

"Straight to the point I see… I was hoping to at least have a short chat before we delve into the main topic but very well. Yes I have. I would be setting off at daybreak. What of it?

"What did your agent say?"

"Proceed to Pieta for a large battle against a large number of Awakened Beings"

"Have you read it the report that was sent to them?"

"No."

"Here."

Galatea tossed a small stack of parchment towards her partner and took another bite of the meat chewing thoroughly.

The contents were of little matter to Flora. The curt exchange between them had already tipped her as to what was coming. After all, Galatea had always been haunty and rough but it was only in times where the lives of her close friends were in danger that she would be so distant.

"I'm amazed you managed to procure this information. So Maria is in charge huh? I see." Reaching for the claymore, she made mince of the thin fibers scattering them to the wind and as befitting of her title, there was almost no trace of her blade moving from its initial position.

"Anything else?"

"I understand what's going to happen. Thank you for your concern though. Have you spoken to Miria?"

"No. She's being watched at the moment."

"I see."

Another moment of silence broke between the two. Many years spent apart had created a wall between them but for Galatea to do such a thing as warn her friends… Flora smiled sadly as she unscrewed the hilt of her sword.

The black card. A signal that one's time was near and the final request for a swift death before the madness took over. This letter of death was stored within the hilt of all their claymores. But to Flora, it held an extra two pieces of white parchment. A last memento in the event that she would perish before her friends.

A sentimental thought, one would say and many more would laugh but that was just who she was. It was something that came from seeing the "weak" around her fall and knowing her time would come. At least she thought if I could be remembered more than just a number or a title, I would be content.

"Then I'd like you to have this. Just in case." Flora handed the small slip with a cursive 'G' over to her companion who sat there chewing her meat in an attempt to be nonchalant.

"Put that emotional baggage back where it came from. If you want to, give it to me do it after you return."

Galatea avoided Flora's attempt to place the letter in her hands all the while avoiding her gaze.

"Well I should be off I can't be missing for too long."

Galatea grabbed her claymore placing it behind her back before stretching.

"I pray for your safety Galatea."

"I need no such sentiment Flora. Just come back safely with Miria… Oh yeah." Galatea half-turned as if remembering something. "Watch out for number 47. She's got some killer moves."

"I see. I will take note of that. Thank you."

And as the first of the dawn light touched the forest did these two warriors leave the clearing like the passing of the wind, never to return.

A/N

Finally a story with Flora as a character and not just a plot device for Miria X Galatea (Joking XD)

Though I'm starting to realize that my stories always have Galatea in them…

Maybe I should start calling it **In the God's-Eye** rather than Windcutter.

SITDarkness


End file.
